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Once upon a time there was a kingdom, a kingdom of sprawling desert, whose sparkling hills swooped and dove and rolled, an ocean of sand, a vastness to challenge the sky above it. The kingdom was as rich as it was spacious, rich in gold, in silver, in glittering jewels. From the heart of the land rose a castle of shining white stone, all spiraling towers and soaring arches, dazzling under the intense light of the desert sun. Within this castle, there lived a king and queen.
The king was kind and generous, and with his people he shared all the land had to offer. The kingdom prospered; all its people lived in blissful happiness.
All but one.
Much to the king’s great distress, the queen did not share in the kingdom’s mirth. The king loved the queen dearly, and did all that he could to bring her happiness, showering her with gifts, each more elaborate and costly than the last. From far and wide, he called for entertainers, musicians and dancers and acrobats, hoping they might alleviate his beloved wife’s gloom. Yet for all his efforts, the queen remained depressed, burdened by some woe he could neither see nor understand. One day she could bear it no more. What is it? cried he. What saddens you so?
I know not, replied she. Indeed, she did not understand her sorrow herself. For what reason was there for sadness? To live in a beautiful, prosperous kingdom, to be chosen as wife of the king himself, so that she would never have to work or want for anything. She was fortunate, she knew, more than fortunate, and she had every reason in the world to be happy and grateful with the life she had.
But she was not.
However the king had not given up. A tale – as old, nay older, than kingdom itself – told of a great magical being that made the desert its home, a being called the Djinn. To most, it was mere myth, a warning to discourage children from misbehaving. Don’t wander too far, or the Djinn will find you. Quit that shouting! Noisy children attract the Djinn, and you don’t want him to come, do you?
It was truth, however, to the kings of the land, passed down from generation to generation, from father to son.
And so one day, the king rode off into the desert, determined to find the mighty being. For if anything could bring the queen happiness, it would be the Djinn’s magic.
For six nights and seven days, the king scoured the land, determined to search every dune, to look under every grain of sand if need be. For seven nights he searched before his quest finally came to fruition.
The great being was of magic and fire, a towering figure of light and heat and smoke and power bearing but faint resemblance to a man. Facing the Djinn, the king pulled out a sword and a lamp, both items heirlooms thrumming with ancient magic. The battle lasted for hours, when finally the king, singed, exhausted, but victorious, bound the Djinn to the lamp.
Now you are my servant! declared the king. You must grant my wish!
And what might that be? inquired the Djinn.
My queen! No matter what I do, some sadness weighs upon her heart, although I cannot see what or why. I command you to make her happy!
As you wish, replied the Djinn.
The Djinn disappeared for some time, then returned, informing the king that the queen had found her happiness.
The king, overjoyed, hurried home as fast as his horse would carry him, taking the lamp and the Djinn with him. He burst into the castle, eager to be reunited with his wife, who would now no longer be plagued by melancholy.
But the queen was nowhere to be found.
Confused and outraged, the king turned to the Djinn. What is the meaning of this? Where is she? What have you done with her?
What you asked. I have given her happiness. She is gone now.
The king, furious for having been tricked and grieving the loss of his wife, cursed the Djinn, imprisoning him inside the lamp and casting it out into the desert, where the Djinn remained for many centuries.
However, the queen was not dead as the king believed. When the Djinn had disappeared to grant the king’s wish, he had traveled to meet the queen. He found her alone in a tower, looking out to the horizon. Come with me, said he.
Why? asked the queen.
Because I am going to help you find happiness.
Wary but intrigued, the queen followed the Djinn, who led her out into the desert. The fine sand under her feet glowed softly, lit by the twinkling stars above. Wind sighed over the dunes, barely audible, swirling sand around her ankles. Into the silver night they both traveled, Djinn and queen. When the castle was but a bright spot in the distance, the Djinn halted, and produced a rucksack.
Take this, said the Djinn. It is magic. It has all you will ever need.
All I will ever need for what? asked the queen, taking the bag into her hands.
For where you are going.
Where am I going? And why?
Out there, replied the Djinn, vaguely gesturing toward the desert. You aren’t happy here, are you? And you won’t find happiness here. But out there, maybe there is happiness for you.
The queen looked out to the dunes, rolling away as far as she could see. And then back to the castle, barely visible in the distance. There was everything she had ever known, the grand life that had been given to her. Who was she to throw away what so many coveted, what so many considered her to be blessed for having?
Go, or do not, said the Djinn, sensing her hesitation. It is your choice. That is what I offer you. A choice.
For the first time in years, the queen felt the corners of her lips tug upwards. Thank you, she whispered, shouldering the bag.
Her smile grew wider and wider, with each step that took her farther and farther away from the castle. Ahead of her, the desert stretched on endlessly, an ocean of sand, a vastness to challenge the sky above it.